


You Were Always The One To Show Me How

by MUTTLESSBREEDING, orphan_account



Category: 20th Century CE RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: 1990s, Bullying, Dylric, Homicidal Thoughts, M/M, Shit gets crazy, Suicidal Thoughts, they plan nbk together, we stan queen sue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26707822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MUTTLESSBREEDING/pseuds/MUTTLESSBREEDING, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It all started with a fight.
Relationships: Eric Harris & Dylan Klebold, Eric Harris/Dylan Klebold
Comments: 20
Kudos: 39





	1. You’ll Make This All Go Away

**Author's Note:**

> we don’t condone.

**September 20, 1998, 11:00am**

Eric stared into his metal locker as people laughed and talked with their friends in the hallway. This school fucking sucked. He felt a stab of anger at the thought of having to be here another day. All these assholes with their stupid lives, every last one of them were worthless.

“Hey!” Dylan said walking up beside him.

Well everyone was worthless except for one person. Dylan’s cheeks were slightly rosy from the cold wind outside, the weather had been fucking freezing lately, his blonde hair was slightly wispy giving him the effect of a halo.

Eric felt his anger dissipate as he locked eyes with the one bright spot in his life. “Hey.” He said lowly, giving him an easy smile.

Dylan began to smile but frowned as soon as his eyes drifted towards something behind Eric. A group of loud-mouthed, dick jocks were walking up from behind him. The group took up the entire hallway, they were having an obnoxiously loud conversation and playfully wrestling with each other.

Jonathan, one of the senior football players, walked beside them, joining in their conversation, but looking bored. He evilly grinned as he spotted Eric. Jonathan had relentlessly teased Eric for the past three years. Making comments about his likes, clothes, and hair, as well as his “fucking psychotic” behavior.

“Rammstein fucking sucks!” Jonathan crooned, gesturing towards Eric’s band shirt, cupping his hands around his mouth to make the insult especially loud and public. The jocks surrounding Jonathan began whooping and hollering, pointing and laughing at Eric’s shirt. The other students in the hallway took notice and gave a few chuckles at Jonathan’s “joke”.

Eric's cheeks burned as he crossed his arms over his chest, thoroughly embarrassed. His earlier momentary peace seeing Dylan was long gone, Eric felt his rage return and balled his hands into fists. He wasn’t having it with the abuse today.

“Shut the fuck up jackass!” He yelled back. Jonathan’s sneering smile fell and his face contorted into a look of anger. He immediately walked up to Eric and used his forearm to slam him into the lockers, pinning him there.

“What did you just say to me, faggot?” Jonathan screamed, spit flying everywhere.

“I told you to shut the fuck up.” Eric said without wavering. Jonathan fumed. He pulled his fists back and forcefully punched Eric in the face. Dylan stood by Eric’s side, watching in horror, wanting to help, but feeling powerless against the group. Eric fell to the ground as blood began pouring out of his nostrils.

Jonathan was still pissed. He was not okay with being talked back to by a fucking loser in front of all his friends. He began stomping Eric harshly in the stomach. Eric curled in pain, instinctively shielding his midsection with his arms. The other jocks cheered on their friend, chanting and shouting. The noise attracted the attention of a teacher, who came running over to the crowd. The teacher was a fat, older man with thinning hair who taught freshmen.

“Hey! Hey! No fighting, stop that right now! Get to class, everyone!” The crowd that had amassed to watch the fight quickly cleared, not wanting to get detention. Jonathan stepped away from Eric who was crumpled on the linoleum. He spat on the floor by Eric, finished humiliating him.

The teacher grabbed Jonathan’s upper arm. “Jonathan, what is the meaning of this? We talked about not fighting. Who started this?”

Jonathan’s demeanor shifted from rage to putting on an apologetic front. “Mr. Hays, I honestly did not mean to hurt anyone. He just started threatening us with violence when we walked by and I couldn’t let him get away with it.”

The teacher nodded, seemingly satisfied with that explanation. Eric wasn’t known to be the most peaceful person. His purposeful bumping into people in the halls and quiet, angry demeanor illustrated that.

Dylan gaped at the jocks complete bullshit of a lie. Eric was still crumpled on the ground but shakily began to sit up, his forearms shook with the exertion. Blood still streamed down his face from his nose.

“That is fucking bullshit. I didn’t say shit to you fuckwads.” Eric said lowly, words dripping with rage. His busted lip caused blood to get in between his teeth, creating a red film over them. Tiny droplets of blood pinged onto the ground as he spoke.

The teacher waved his hand, silencing him.  
“Well both you and Jonathan need to come to the office now.”

Eric’s expression dropped. Once again he would suffer the consequences of something that wasn’t his fault. He glared at Jonathan with hatred.

He could feel his emotions swirling. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to explode something. He wanted to light something on fire. He wanted to break down and sob right in front of everyone. Instead, he harshly stood up and stormed down the hallway.

The teacher called out after him. “Young man, you can not leave the premises. You must come to the office. Fighting is an extreme violation of school policy!”

Eric kept moving forward, completely ignoring the teacher, until he made it to the doors that led to the parking lot, away from the school.

Dylan stood still for a second, still in shock, but quickly decided to go after Eric. Eric made it to his car and immediately got in. Dylan followed close after him. They shut the car doors harshly and sat in complete silence. Eric felt his eyes sting and let his emotions overcome him. He began crying, trying to wipe away his tears with the heels of his palms but only succeeded in smearing the blood from his nose further.

Dylan looked on with a worried expression. He seemed shocked at seeing Eric cry. He had seen him have over a hundred different emotions but never despair.

Eric felt Dylan awkwardly wrapped his arms around him. He knew Dylan was feeling guilty for not dragging Eric away from the jocks before anything happened.

Dylan stayed quiet while Eric cried, partly because he had no clue what he could even say. Eric surprisingly didn't pull away from Dylan's embrace, and instead buried his face in Dylan's chest, causing a smear of blood and tears all over Dylan's trench coat

When the two boys pulled apart, Eric realized the slight mess he had made, and mumbled a short apology, "Sorry.."

Dylan managed a reassuring smile in response, telling him that it was fine, he didn't care.  
The blonde then cleared his throat, "Hey, Reb, you wanna talk about it?"

Eric merely nodded, not saying anything. They sat in silence, and just when Dylan was about to push, Eric spoke up.

“Just come over tonight...” Eric said softly. He felt like a night alone with his best friend was the only thing that would make him feel better. “Please.” He added when Dylan looked hesitant.

“I have some vodka left.” He continued in a light tone, giving him a small smile, despite the aching pain he felt in his stomach.

Dylan nodded, always down to drink. “Okay, sounds good. We should get you home. Are you okay to drive?”

Eric looked down hesitantly. His hands were still shaking. “Um..”

“You know what, I’ll drive,” Dylan said, noticing his friend's shakiness.

Eric smiled at him gratefully as they got out and switched seats.

Dylan began driving toward Eric’s house. Eric hoped they’d avoid running into his parents and getting asked a million questions. Although, his dad tended to turn a blind eye to his pain. He knew his mom would be slightly more concerned and fuss over his injuries while threatening to call the school and have the boy who hurt him expelled.

But today, he really didn’t feel like making her feel secretly disappointed that her son was so fucking weak he couldn’t even fight his own bullies. Eric internally cringed at his own weakness. As soon as Jonathan touched him, he should have just punched him so fucking hard that his skull would crack. Instead, he faltered and let himself get humiliated in front of everyone, including Dylan, who was also probably ashamed his friend was so fucking weak.

He unconsciously let out a sigh of relief when they arrived at his house and there were no cars in the driveway. He just wanted to take a long hot shower and sleep for days.

He slowly got out of the car, his body ached with pain in response. Dylan eyed him nervously and began walking towards the front door.

They entered the empty house and went straight to the basement. Eric sat on his bed carefully, feeling emotional again. Dylan stood awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do.

“Everything fucking hurts. He must’ve kicked me in the stomach five fucking times.” Eric said, breaking the silence.

Dylan looked sadly at him. “Let me help you, Reb. I can clean up your face.”

Eric thought for a moment, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the thought of Dylan being in such close proximity to him. But he could really use his help, being in so much pain and barely able to stand. Eric nodded and allowed Dylan to lead him to the bathroom, he sat on the closed toilet lid, feeling like a child having someone take care of him.

Dylan grabbed the hand drying towel and dampened it under the faucet.

He kneeled in front of Eric and gently grasped his face, turning it to the side. He eyed him for a moment.

“Your nose doesn’t look broken. I think he just hit it really hard.”

Eric scoffed. “Well, that’s good at least. I wasn’t a total fucking failure today. I didn’t manage to break my fucking nose at least.”

Dylan frowned at Eric’s statement and shook his head.

“Don’t call yourself a failure, Reb.” He chastised as he began lightly wiping the blood and dried tear tracks off Eric’s cheeks. The white hand towel turned a slight pink color as the blood washed off. Eric repressed a wince at the pressure.

Eric felt his eyes getting misty and blinked hard.  
“That’s what I am, VoDKa. You’ve never lied to me before. Don’t start now fucker.”

Dylan shook his head and gave Eric a sad smile.

“You could never be a failure, Eric. You’re the smartest person I know.”

Eric scoffed. “Says the guy who was in the fucking gifted program in elementary school.”

Dylan laughed. “God don’t remind me.” He turned Eric’s face to the other side and dabbed at the blood flecks. “And what that fuckhead did wasn’t your fault. You didn’t “fail”, he’s just an asshole. The same thing would’ve happened to me if he decided to go after me today.”

Eric dropped his head. “No, it wouldn’t have. You’re stronger than me. And like fucking seven feet tall so they don’t fuck with you.”

Dylan flipped the towel and gently wiped the blood that had dried on Eric’s lips. “Okay but lucky for you, we’re best friends and I’ll make sure to let that dickhead know, no one fucks with my best friend.”

Eric smiled at him gratefully.

“Okay, so now I’m gonna try to get the blood off your nose but it might hurt so be ready,” Dylan said, looking a little guilty.

Eric nodded and tensed up. Dylan tried as quickly and gently as possible to wash away the smeared blood. He kept one of his hands lightly grasped around the back of Eric’s neck. “Okay, done. Wanna take some Advil? It’ll help your stomach.”

“Thanks, man. And yeah I’ll take a couple.”

Eric took the medicine and they settled on the couch, leaving about a foot of space between them. Eric let Dylan pick a movie and sunk into the couch cushions, letting the medicine make him feel drowsy and finally allowing himself to relax.


	2. In This Place It Seems Like Such A Shame

**September 21, 1998, 1:00am**

It was 1 am, yet Eric was wide awake. He had no clue why, but sleep was eluding him. Strangely enough, Dylan was also awake. Which confused Eric, usually by this time Dylan would be dead asleep.

Dylan had been acting weird lately. Not that Eric was complaining, usually it was a good weird. For example, Dylan seemed happier. He didn’t talk about killing himself anymore, and he always seemed to be able to smile. Along with that, Dylan seemed to always be free whenever Eric wanted to hang out, which was almost always nowadays.

Of course, there were also times when Dylan was also a bad different. He had been acting a lot more like Eric, and sometimes he’d act so robotic. Like earlier, when Dylan just stood there while Eric got his ass kicked. Eric secretly hoped his fuck-it attitude wasn’t rubbing off too much on Dylan.

“V?” Eric whispered, turning over onto his side, facing Dylan.

“Hm?”

“About earlier-” By this time Dylan had also turned to face Eric. Their faces were suspiciously close.

Eric sighed, unable to find the right words. “I just- ugh- everyone fucking sucks.”

“What if we were to just shoot up the fucking school?” Dylan blurted out suddenly, surprising Eric.

“Wh-what?” Eric stuttered out, shocked at the statement his best friend had just uttered. Eric definitely thought about doing something like that before. He hated school and wouldn’t mind killing all those fuckers. He was surprised Dylan would be the one to suggest it, considering Dylan had more friends and people he had grown up with that attended the school. But he had a point.. it definitely would show them.

“Look, I know it sounds crazy, but what do we have to lose?” Dylan explained, his voice strangely level and cool.

“V... you’re right,” Eric said slowly, a sick grin spreading across his face.

The same grin reflected on Dylan’s face, and the two spent the rest of the night planning.

They decided to call it NBK, based on their favorite movie Natural Born Killers.

The two talked until morning, with Eric eventually exhausting himself and falling asleep to the sound of Dylan’s soothingly deep voice.

\-- 

Eric slowly sat up, his whole body hurt. He stretched, letting out a low groan before flopping back down on his back, which seemed to startle Dylan awake. Dylan yawned. Eric muttered a small apology while Dylan tried to stretch while still lying down. His lanky body was too long for Eric’s bed, and his head ended up smashing against the bed frame, along with his feet. Dylan didn’t even seem to care.

Dylan then sat up, looking over at Eric, he asked, “How are you feeling? Do you want me to get you some painkillers?”

Eric nodded, “Yeah please, my whole fucking body is sore.”

Dylan got up, returning five minutes later, with a glass of water and two small pills. Eric took them both from his hand, giving Dylan a thankful smile before taking a swig of water and swallowing the pills.

“Oh and your mom is making you breakfast,” Dylan said, sitting on the edge of the bed. Eric looked at him, slightly confused.

“Don’t you mean ‘us’?”

Dylan softly giggled, a very not Dylan thing to do, “No, I’m not hungry actually.”

Dylan stood back up, announcing to Eric that he was gonna take a shower. Dylan then left the room, swiping Eric’s towel off the closet doorknob before leaving.

 _What the hell is up with, VoDKa?_ Eric vaguely pondered. He decided that everyone acted a little off in the morning and that Dylan would be back to normal after his shower.

Eric finally got up, gulping down the rest of his water. He then got dressed and headed upstairs.

“Morning, honey!” Kathy gave her son a sweet smile, handing him a plate full of food. She then headed out the back door to do some gardening. Thankfully, she didn’t mention anything about the light bruising on his face, most likely chalking it up to “boys will be boys”.

Eric sat at the kitchen table, scarfing down his food. He hadn’t realized how hungry he had been.

 _When was the last time I ate?_ He couldn’t remember. The fight yesterday made him feel so fucked up.

Once Eric finished eating, he put his plate in the sink and met Dylan downstairs. His golden hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and water still dripped off his sopping wet hair.

“What should we do today?” Eric asked him, biting his lip.

Dylan shrugged, “How about we just chill and play Doom?”

Eric nodded in agreement.

Big plans were coming soon. Jonathan beating him wouldn’t matter soon. He’d blow Jonathan’s fucking arms off and then watch him slowly, painfully bleed out. Showing all those fuckers who God is will be the best day of his life.

But today, he’d take it easy and allow himself to heal by playing Doom with his favorite person in the world.

**October 12, 1998, 5:30pm**

A few weeks after the fight incident, Dylan suggested they see a movie together. Eric was a little surprised considering the only movies that were in theaters currently were shitty chick flicks. But nonetheless, he agreed to accompany Dylan.

Dylan and Eric shuffled into the theater, Eric holding the popcorn and Dylan holding their shared drink.

“We should sit in the back,” Dylan suggested, which made Eric give him a look of pure judgment.

“The back? What the hell is wrong with you? Everyone knows that the middle rows are the best!”

Dylan scoffed, “Only weirdos think that!”

The two argued over where to sit until someone shushed them. Dylan then dragged Eric to the middle seats in the back row.

They sat down at their seats, while Eric grumbled about it under his breath.

The movie wasn’t half-bad, although Eric was hardly paying attention. He was far too busy making sure his and Dylan’s fingers didn’t accidentally brush when grabbing pieces of popcorn. It was just two friends watching a movie together, not some faggy date. Eric planned on keeping it that way.

After the movie, they bought more snacks before exiting the building. They then sat on the hood of Eric’s car, talking. Dylan snacked on the Reese Pieces he had bought while listening to Eric blabber on about what he liked and didn’t like about the movie.

“Remember that forest we went to on my birthday?” Dylan asked, suddenly.

“Uh, random. But of course, I do.”

“We should go there.” Dylan glanced at Eric as if he were expecting some sort of reaction.

Eric frowned, what time is it? The sun was already starting to set, so it had to be getting late. “I dunno, V... we probably should be getting home.”

“Where’s the fun in that!” Dylan pushed, “C’mon, it’ll be fun!” He then gave Eric a puppy-eyed look, and really, how could he say no to that?

Eric sighed, faking exasperation, “Fine.”

Dylan then let out a little cheer, running over to the passenger door and pouting when the door wouldn’t open. “Hey, unlock it you fucktard!”

Eric laughed, walking over to the driver door, unlocking it, then pressing the button to unlock Dylan’s door. They both got in and Eric began driving to the forest he had brought Dylan to a little over a month ago.

\--

Eric sat next to Dylan against a fallen tree the two had found. They had wandered away from the trail and further into the woods, and they were slightly lost.

“Goddamn, Dyl, I fucking told you!” Eric huffed, crossing his arms and bringing his knees to his chest.

Dylan rolled his eyes, “Will you calm down? We’re not lost!”

Eric glared at him, “Then what are we?”

“We’re just a bit off-course,” Dylan offered, grinning like an asshole. Eric lightly punched him on the arm, laughing softly.

“I think my _life_ is ‘a bit off course’.” Eric joked, leaning his head up and looking at the empty sky. There never seemed to be stars in the sky. Sometimes Eric missed them.

“Yeah,” Dylan agreed, resting his head against the log, and closing his eyes. The position looked extremely uncomfortable. The forest was then quiet, with only the sounds of crickets and owls, and even those were far off in the background.

“Hey, V?” Eric spoke up suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Hm?”

“Why’d you want to come back here? I thought you didn’t like it.”

Dylan just shrugged, hesitating slightly before responding.

“I dunno.. this place just... feels more real than anywhere else.. “ The blonde nervously chuckled, realizing how odd that sounded, “I just mean- hasn’t the last month just felt like a dream?”

Eric paused before nodding.

_Everything has felt pretty off, huh?_

By this point, Dylan had his eyes open, and he was staring intensely at Eric. His blue eyes looked black in the darkness. Eric could swear he saw God gleaming in those eyes.

Eric leaned closer, wanting- no needing- a deeper look into the taller male’s eyes. Dylan did the same, feeling the same need.

They soon found themselves with their faces merely inches apart, they were sharing the same air. It was so cold, mist appeared every time they breathed. Dylan’s eyes flickered down to Eric’s lips, then back up his hazel eyes. It was completely silent, not even the rustling of leaves dared to interrupt their moment.

All of a sudden, a small critter skittered by, snapping the two boys out of their trance.

Dylan cleared his throat, “W-we should get going.” He stood up, offering his hand to help Eric up.

Eric took it, “Y-yeah.”

Together, the high schoolers refound the trail and walked back to Eric’s shitty car. Eric then drove Dylan home. Neither mentioned what had almost happened.


	3. I’m Down To Just One Thing, And I’m Starting To Scare Myself

**October 31st, 1998 11:00am**

Eric sat in his third-period philosophy class feeling mildly annoyed. It was Halloween. One of his least favorite holidays honestly. The whole holiday had an air of immaturity and stupidity to it. He might have enjoyed it when he was a kid, but now all the fake cobwebs and plastic pumpkin decorations he’d see in every fucking store wore on his nerves. Not to mention the shitty horror movies that constantly ran on every TV channel.

A few more teens walked into the classroom dressed up for the occasion. One girl was Daphne from Scooby Doo, another dressed as Raggedy Ann, and someone dressed as fucking Jack from Titanic. 

_What was it about nearly adult aged teenagers getting hard ons for a holiday that was for children?_

Eric rolled his eyes as the costumed students settled in their seats, getting ready for class to start. 

He noticed a guy who he used to play soccer with, Mike Van- something, walking up to his desk. He was dressed as Urkle, complete with the fake thick glasses and tacky suspenders. 

_What a fucking faggot._

Eric repressed his irritation and gave him a tight smile. 

“Hey Eric,” Mike said casually.

“Hey man, what’s up?” Eric replied, wondering why this motherfucker was talking to him. They hadn’t had a conversation since sophomore year at least. Eric quit soccer while Mike worked up to team captain, ultimately leading them to drift apart.

“Going as Eric Harris for Halloween this year, dude?” Mike said, softly chuckling at his own joke.

“Yup.” Eric deadpanned, staring at him.

Mike looked at him sheepishly and nervously adjusted his fake glasses. 

“I was just thinking man. You should come to my party tonight. My parents are gonna be gone all night so it’ll be bitchin’!” 

Eric eyed him suspiciously. Dylan was the one who got all the party invites, never him. 

“Why would I go?”

Mike clapped him on the shoulder.

“Dude, don’t worry it’s not just gonna be the guys from the team. Everyone is going. I invited Brooks and Nate and the other guys I’ve seen you with and they said they’re gonna make it.” 

Eric nodded and thanked him for the invite. “I’ll see if I can make it.”

Mike grinned at him and headed to his seat.

Eric really had no intention of going. That was until he told Dylan.

\--

“Reb, we should go! That sounds fun. I want to drink tonight.” Dylan replied after Eric told him. They were sitting in Eric’s car for lunch today. The car was off as it was nice enough outside where the car wasn’t a fucking hotbox or freezing cold. 

Eric scoffed at him. “VoDKa, since when do you actually want to be around all those annoying fuckers?”

Dylan looked at him mischievously. “Since my alcohol stash went dry actually.”

Eric laughed loudly, playfully shoving him. 

“I think it’s a costume party though. I don’t have a fucking costume, and I’m not dressing up.”

Dylan looked away for a moment, thinking. “Why don’t we go as Mickey and Mallory?” 

Eric looked at him incredulously. “Dude, you can’t be serious.”

Dylan laughed. “Okay well, maybe not Mickey and Mallory, but what about we both go as Mickey?”

Eric thought about it for a moment. “You know what, that’ll be a badass costume. Fuck it, I’m in.”

\--

They arrived at the party about forty minutes after it began. They donned identical white T-Shirts with black suspenders, cargo pants, and round sunglasses. They had on their matching combat boots as well. 

Eric crossed his arms over his chest as he took in the crowds of people on the lawn. People were talking and laughing with their friends, drinking out of red solo cups. He spotted some dude puking in the rose bushes that lined the front of the house. “This is fucking stupid.”

Dylan rolled his eyes at him. “Let’s try to find people we know.” 

They walked into the house. It was generously decorated with fake cobwebs, large pumpkins, and strobe lights. A Tupac song blasted from two large speakers on the living room floor. Eric marveled at how the party hadn’t managed to get shut down yet. 

Nearly everyone was dressed up. Many guys were dressed as popular basketball and football players. Eric immediately spotted about ten girls dressed as the Spice Girls, they wore revealing outfits and fishnet stockings with sultry makeup. He couldn’t bring himself to feel anything besides mild disgust towards them. 

A few people looked towards him and Dylan but made no move to greet them. Everyone seemed already shitfaced or loaded, as they danced and talked in the flashing strobe lights.

Eric followed Dylan into the kitchen, where a group of teens crowded around a keg, cheering on each other. Various alcohol bottles sat on the countertop, most nearly empty. Dylan picked up a half empty bottle of tequila and shrugged. He knocked back a sip and handed it to Eric. 

Eric was wary of drinking anything that had been sitting out in the open but decided to loosen up and try to enjoy himself. 

\--

“This is lame, Vod,” Eric said, slurring his words. He reached his fists and slowly rubbed his eyes, attempting to sober up a little. 

His mind was a muddled mess. The music was still lowly pounding, and he could hear the partygoers laughing and talking. The pair hadn’t managed to find anyone they knew, despite Mike’s promise of their friends attending. They were in some guest room, alone, Eric was perched on the end of the bed, trying to keep himself upright while Dylan leaned up against the door, monitoring him.

Eric flopped onto his back and hit the mattress with a soft thud. He laughed, feeling the numbing, giddy effects of the alcohol. His stomach began to churn and he frowned. 

“You good, Reb?” Dylan questioned, an amused smile on his face. 

Eric groaned in response. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the nausea. The room was spinning. He got a little carried away with the tequila and then added a few beers to the mix. Dylan was by far more sober with his nearly unlimited tolerance.

Dylan crossed the room and sat down next to Eric’s head. He placed his hands on Eric’s shoulders and slightly shook him. “Eric, are you really that drunk?”

Eric cracked his eyes open and gave Dylan a dopey smile. He rarely let himself get completely shit faced, so this was a relatively new experience.

Dylan shook his head and laughed. “I guess that’s a yes by the fucking look on your face.”

Eric lifted his head up and scanned the room. “I think I’m gonna be fucking sick.”

Dylan groaned and ran a hand through his blonde locks. “Dude, please don’t. I don’t feel like watching you puke all night.” 

Eric gave him a frown and attempted to stifle the nausea.

Dylan gripped him by the shoulders and lifted him into a sitting position, keeping an arm around his shoulders. 

“Just breathe through it and don’t think about it too much.”

Eric attempted to control his breathing and managed to ward off the wave of sickness. He leaned back into Dylan’s strong arm that was wrapped around him. 

Eric gazed at Dylan through his lashes. His eyes looked especially cerulean blue in the low, glowing light. Although his hair was a wild, unkempt mess of curls, Eric only saw the shiny sun beam hue and the way the curls fell perfectly to softly frame his face. Dylan stared back at him with an unreadable expression on his face. They sat for a few seconds, silent, simply gazing at each other.

Eric was the first to break the silence. “You know, you’re kinda beautiful.” The words slurred together. 

Eric felt embarrassed as soon as the words left his mouth. It sounded like a shitty line out of a chick flick. He moved to shift away from Dylan but was held back. 

“Wait, you really think that?” 

Eric looked at him, slightly shocked at the lack of anger or disgust in the response. 

“Yes, of course.” Eric said, puzzled. Although his feelings were muddled, he was certain about Dylan’s beauty.

On one hand, he felt a detached sense of attraction towards Dylan. The kind he would feel when seeing a hot supermodel or actress. An admittance of their attractiveness but nothing more than that. It was a simple acknowledgment of attractive features and attributes with no feelings attached. 

And then, on the other hand, he felt a slight attraction in the _other_ way. It was a feeling he tried to compress for so long. It had been pushed to the depths of his mind.

It’d resurface when Dylan would touch him in a caring way, let him pick the movie, or show him a sense of connection that no one ever really took the time to form. The feeling welled up inside him in the forest the other day. Even the way Dylan would gaze at him sometimes would cause the feeling to overwhelm him.

He spent so much time trying to convince himself it wasn’t there, but it was. It wouldn’t go away. He could feel the feeling surface as Dylan stared at him with those soft, sad eyes. Those ocean blue eyes that held the depths of so many emotions and feelings that were left unspoken. Dylan looked at him with a sense of hopefulness, marveled at the fact that _anyone_ could find him physically attractive.

Eric felt defensive at the thought Dylan didn’t find himself attractive.

“Vodka, every single thing about you is fucking beautiful.” He reached his hands out and tangled them in his curly golden locks, pulling his face closer. Dylan looked down sadly, still in disbelief. “Why can’t you see that? Your more beautiful than any fucking whore I’ve ever seen.” 

Dylan gave him a small, sad smile. “I’m weird-looking. Don’t lie to me. I need a fucking nose job.”

Eric frowned deeply at him. “I’m so lost at how you can’t see how fucking perfect you are. I chose _you_ to die with me. No one else in the entire fucking world holds a candle to you.”

Eric didn’t know if it was the effects of the alcohol or honest feelings that made him say the next sentence.

“I love you.” 

Dylan looked up at him, eyes wide. He leaned in closer to Eric. 

“I love you too.” He said softly.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, before simultaneously leaning in and kissing one another. 

It wasn’t the greatest kiss as it was the first for both of them. They fumbled for a few seconds before getting the hang of it.

Eric felt a massive weight lifted off his shoulders. He was so content. It felt unbelievable. He was kissing his best friend. The world didn’t collapse or blow up. Everything was fine. They were in this moment and everything was perfect. Something he had stressed and panicked over for so long was finally over with. Dylan was aware of his feelings and was accepting it. 

They broke apart and grinned at each other. 

“Gawd, I was starting to think you’d never realize what I felt for you,” Dylan said, cooly, looking truly happy for the first time in a long time. 

Eric let out a small chuckle. The effects of the alcohol were still there but the events of the night had greatly sobered up. Eric leaned in for another kiss feeling more comfortable. Dylan got right into it and kissed back.

They pressed their bodies together. Dylan held Eric’s cheek in one hand and firmly pressed his back closer with his other. 

Eric daringly fumbled with the hem of Dylan’s shirt, moving to take it off. Dylan caught his hand and gently squeezed. 

“Are you sure, Reb?” 

Eric thought for a moment before nodding enthusiastically. He had waited so long. He was done waiting. They were still gonna die in a few months anyway. Even if they did have each other now, it didn’t solve anything. Society would look down on them even more. They’d be the lowest of the low. This Earth wasn’t meant for them. Their souls were meant to leave behind the piss and vomit of this world and ascend to something better. They were godlike. 

Dylan grinned at him and helped take off his shirt. 

Eric removed his own shirt slowly. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, not feeling completely comfortable showcasing the small dent. 

Dylan frowned at him and gently moved his arms to the side. 

“You’re beautiful, Reb. Never feel self-conscious with me.” He began trailing light kisses from Eric’s neck to his stomach. Adding extra on his chest. 

They shared every part of themselves with each other that night. Outside the door, dozens of dead men walking danced the night away. Kids partying without a care in the world, focused on getting as high as possible, while two other kids solidified their relationship just one room over. 

Everyone in that house would be dead soon. 

They were now two people, that were deeply connected as one. 

They would share the loss of their virginity, morality, and lives together. They were closer than any other two people on this Earth could ever get. 

As they came together, intensely and breathlessly, Eric felt briefly what he knew he’d feel on the glorious morning of NBK. 

Absolute euphoria.

\--

“Hey! Whoever the hell is in there, you gotta get up! Mike’s parents are coming back in a few hours!” Some random kid who’s name Eric couldn’t remember was banging on the door, startling the 17-year-old awake. 

Eric let out a low groan, _oh god...my fuckin head…_

He felt like his head was about to explode and for some reason, he was freezing. Everything was so fuzzy, he wasn’t actually sure what was going on

The stranger twisted the locked doorknob a few more times before running off, laughing loudly with a few other kids who were also helping evacuate the house before the adults returned. 

Eric slowly sat up, keeping his eyes closed. He felt something next to him shift and assumed it was Dylan also waking up. 

Eric slowly opened his eyes, quickly realizing _why_ he felt so cold. _Why the fuck am I naked?_ The answer slapped him right in the face immediately after glancing at Dylan, who was sitting up by this point. And just like Eric, Dylan was completely naked. 

Eric quickly looked away, burying his face in his hands. “Oh no, oh no-no.” Eric thought aloud. 

Dylan was about to respond when someone in a different part of the house yelled, “They’re here!”

The two boys shared a look of panic, both jumping out of bed and rushing to get dressed. They hurriedly climbed out of the window, running to Eric’s car, which was parked a few blocks from Mike’s house. Glancing over his shoulder, Eric saw other kids running from the house and two very angry looking parents storming inside.

They quickly got in, slamming the door shut and taking off immediately as soon as the keys were in the ignition. 

They laughed and joked for a good few minutes, enjoying the small high they had gotten from nearly getting caught. 

Then, they were left with silence. Awkward, sticky, tension-filled silence. Dylan had been partially sober, so he didn’t have the excuse that Eric did.

Eric could easily just accuse Dylan of taking advantage of him. He could call Dylan a faggot and tell him that he never wanted to see him again.

But, in all reality, they both knew what had happened last night was completely consensual. They had no cop-outs. They both had to accept what had happened and either move on or move forward. 

Eric looked at himself in the rearview mirror. His hair was as ruffled as it could possibly be. He had hickeys all over his neck and collarbone. He was sure there were more hidden under the fabric of his shirt.

Glancing over at Dylan, he seemed to be in the same shape as Eric was, with the only exception being the way his golden hair was frizzled everywhere. He was trying to brush his hair using his fingers, failing miserably.

Dylan finally gave up, slumping back into the seat. 

Staring out the window, Dylan glumly asked, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“Wh-what you had said.. last night,” he cleared his throat, “Y’know when you said that you l-loved me..” Dylan bit his lip to stop it from quivering. He looked close to bursting into tears.

“Of course. I wouldn’t just… say that to _anyone_ ,” Eric let out a sigh, “VoDKa, I don’t regret last night. I really don’t. I’m just worried about people finding out”

By this point, Dylan had perked up, “Yeah, but who’s to say they’d find out?”

Eric didn’t get it, “Huh?”

“Hear me out… we’re hiding NBK and our true selves from everyone, so who’s to say we can’t hide ‘us’?” 

Eric nodded, catching Dylan’s drift. 

For the rest of the drive, they were quiet, until they pulled into Dylan’s empty driveway. The rest of the Klebold family was gone, off enjoying their own Saturday morning plans.

They sat in silence, sharing small glances at each other, before finally ending the game, and both of them reaching over for a kiss. 

Dylan placed his hands on Eric’s face while Eric’s hands were in the other’s golden hair. 

They sucked faces for a few minutes before abruptly pulling apart. Dylan quickly got out, running towards his house, yelling something about calling Eric later.

All Eric could do was sit in the driveway, shocked, for a few minutes, before finally starting up his engine and driving home.

That night Dylan called Eric. They talked into the early hours of the morning.

And when they finally hung up, it was official. Eric was finally in a relationship, with his best fucking friend. 

Dylan Klebold.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way. 


	4. This Thing Is Slowly Taking Me Apart

**November 4, 1998, 10:12am**

“And _why_ do we need gloves, again?” Eric huffed, glaring down at the ground while he and Dylan walked through the crowded aisles of Walmart. 

“It’ll protect our hands, duh!” Dylan smiled over at his grumpy companion, purposely bumping into him, “Hey! Cheer up, Reb. Remember why we’re doing this, it’ll all be worth it in the end.” Eric knew that Dylan was right- his hand was still sore from yesterday’s target practice.

Eric softly sighed, glancing up at Dylan, “I know, but we’re just wasting more money by buying two pairs of gloves.” By this point Dylan had taken a sharp turn into the aisle he had been searching for for the last five minutes.

“What if we only bought one pair then?” Dylan suggested after a few minutes. 

“Huh?”

“I’m left handed, you’re right handed. It could work.”

Eric thought about it for a few moments, before deciding that Dylan was right. 

The brunette stopped complaining after that, and even helped Dylan find the perfect glove for them both. 

It ended up costing only five dollars.

\--

Eric slipped on his newly bought glove, feeling a strange sense of power rushing through him. Wrapping his hand around the gun, Eric placed his finger against the trigger. Dylan stood behind him, with his stomach pressed against Eric’s back. He was trying to help Eric with his aim. Dylan helped Eric adjust his stance and with correctly holding the gun.

Dylan was in the middle of explaining something about how easy it is to accidently blow off a few fingers just by holding a gun wrong when he suddenly stopped, staring at Eric, a dopey grin on his face.

“What?” Eric glanced at Dylan, a bit unnerved by the blonde’s staring. “Is something wrong?” 

Dylan shook his head, pressing his lips against Eric’s. “You’re just so fucking beautiful,” He said once they had pulled away.

Eric rolled his eyes, a soft blush appearing on his face. He pushed Dylan away, getting into his shooting stance and muttering a quiet ‘shut up’ just before taking a shot and perfectly hitting the soda bottle they had set up for practice. 

Dylan gave a soft whoop, while Eric turned around, wrapping his arms around the taller male and going on his tiptoes to plant another kiss on his lips. He loosely held the gun, the side of it pressed against Dylan’s back. 

“NBK is gonna rock, dude.” Eric said confidently, he and Dylan wearing the same grin.

“Natural selection, baby!” Dylan teased, kissing Eric again and again, all over his face.

Eric scrunched up his face, letting out a low groan as he tried pushing Dylan away.

“V-”

“No,” Dylan just pulled Eric closer in response, “Just take my fucking love, you shitdick!” Eric let out a snort.

“‘Shitdick’? Do i even wanna ask what that means?”

Dylan laughed, “I don’t think you do.”

Eric finally pushed Dylan off of him, “Now do you want to keep slacking off, or actually practice like we had originally planned?”

Eric smirked, holding out the gun for Dylan.

The blonde rolled his eyes, taking it from Eric, “You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah well, so are you.”

“But you love me right?” Eric jabbed Dylan in the ribs.

“Of course I do. Now fucking take a shot before I get bored and take it from you.”

Dylan didn’t even dare ask what the fuck that meant. 


	5. My Favorite Dreams of You Still Wash Ashore

**November 12, 1998 10:40am**  
  
  
Eric stomped upstairs, shrugging on his trench coat. He could hear Dylan honking his car horn outside, trying to get Eric to hurry his ass up. 

They had plans to go get some supplies for pipe bombs. Even though they had at least five months until NBK, Eric felt as though time was running out. 

So much to do, and such little time. Not to mention every time they would sit down to plan Dylan would get bored and start teasing Eric by kissing him lightly until Eric would shout at him to stop and focus. Most of the time though, he ended up falling victim to Dylan’s distractions. 

“Eric?” His mom was in the kitchen, sitting at the dining table. It was obvious from the look on her face that she wanted to talk about something.

“What is it, mom? I got to go meet Dylan. He's waiting for me.” Eric said exasperatedly, as he walked down the stairs. 

Kathy's facial expression crumpled and she began crying, dropping her head into her hands.

Eric was shocked by his mother’s sudden outburst and sat next to her, gripping her hand. 

“Mom, what’s wrong??” 

His mom took a deep breath and sniffled, looking up at him.

“Eric, honey.” She placed her hands gently on the side of his face, pulling him closer towards her. “The last month has been so hard for you. Me and your father completely understand and are so proud of you for being so strong.” She paused for a second, beginning to cry again as she continued. “We just think you need some help getting through this, sweetie.” 

Eric looked at her in confusion. He didn’t understand at all. Get over what? He felt his stomach twist in anxiety. He was so confused. 

“Getting through what mom?” He said softly.

Kathy looked like she was gonna cry again, but put on a brave face as she continued to explain.

“We just noticed you haven’t completely.. accepted the situation.”

“What situation?” Eric said, voice barely above a whisper.

Kathy shook her head, briefly closing her eyes and swiping away the tears on her cheeks.

“Honey, Dylan has been dead for two months now. It’s time to let go and accept it.”


	6. Just A Fading Fucking Reminder Of Who I Used To Be

**Flashback- September 10, 1998, 11:53 pm**

Dylan laid on his bed staring at the ceiling. He was about to turn 17 years old. Sixteen had been especially shitty so his hopes for seventeen had been diminished. There were seven more minutes exactly until his birthday. 

He never really enjoyed having a birthday in September. It was always that weird mix of hot and cold weather that left him feeling irritated. It also was early on in the school year so he still faced nine months of school, which was a hell of a birthday gift. He stared at the alarm clock on his dresser, the faint glow of the green screen illuminated a few inches on the dresser. 

He stared at the number 11:53 until his eyes started to burn. He blinked, relieving the sting. The outline of numbers was burned into his vision, he harshly rubbed his eyes until the numbers began to waver behind his eyelids. 

He took a deep breath and moved to sit on the edge of his bed. Another year down. This would definitely be his last birthday. Even if he didn’t end up getting taken out by natural means, he planned to kill himself before heading off to college in the fall. He didn’t feel like dragging himself through the misery of college freshman year only to blow his brains out in a shitty dorm room. 

Seventeen years of hell. Not once was he truly happy. Seventeen years too many he felt he had lived. He vaguely wondered who would actually wish him a happy birthday. He didn’t like making a big deal out of it so only a few close people knew. He started to doze off when he heard the blaring ringing of his phone. He cursed whoever was calling, now he’d never be able to go back to sleep. 

He picked up the phone and muttered a sharp “hello”. 

“Happy birthday, Vodka!” Eric said loudly on the other end. He sounded like he was in a good mood tonight. Dylan rolled his eyes. Eric probably was happy he’d finally have Friday night plans due to Dylan’s birthday dinner planned for tonight.

“Thanks, man,” Dylan replied easily. 

“Shit will be so good tonight, Dyl. I took a few beers from my dad. Let’s definitely come back to my place after dinner.” Eric said excitedly. 

Dylan repressed a sigh.

_Beer? Really. Were they fucking fourteen?_

He was counting on someone else supplying the hard booze tonight but he guessed he’d have to dip into his stash. 

“Okay that sounds good. Listen I’ll see you at school later okay?” 

“Okay! Talk to you later, V.” Eric said without missing a beat.

Dylan harshly put the phone down with a click and went back to brooding until passing out from sheer exhaustion in the early hours of the morning. 

**Flashback- September 11, 1998, 7:00am**

He woke up a few hours later feeling not rested. His mind was tired, which resulted in his body feeling even more tired. His eyes felt dry and his limbs ached. He forced down the feeling of nausea and got up to get dressed. He could hear his parents in the kitchen talking and cooking. The clatter of pans and utensils wore on his nerves. 

His birthday outfit consisted of a faded Nine Inch Nails T-Shirt and holed jeans. He threw on his combat boots and a plain black hat to mask his unkempt hair. He had forgotten to shower last night. It had gotten too late to take one by the time he mustered up the motivation. 

As he stomped down the stairs, the smell of bacon and strong coffee wafted out from the kitchen. He felt vaguely sick at the smell. His mom's face lit up as he walked into the kitchen. He vaguely wondered what expression she’d have if she knew how badly he wanted to fucking die. 

“Happy birthday, Dyl!” She said cheerily. He forced a smile towards her and grabbed a piece of bacon cooling on the stove. He took a bite, it crunched loudly. The bacon was too greasy. It coated his tongue, leaving a slick film. He felt like spitting it out but knew that would draw attention. He instead choked it down and sat across from his father at the dining table. 

His father looked up from the newspaper he was reading and gave him a warm smile.

“I can't believe you’re seventeen today. Wow I am getting really old.” He added with a chuckle.

Dylan fake laughed and shook his head. “Just wait until I’m eighteen.” He began, knowing he was lying through his teeth. Turning eighteen would never be a reality for him. “Then all your kids will be adults.” 

Sue looked over at him and dramatically rolled her eyes. “Oh my god. Don’t remind me!” 

Dylan made small talk with his parents and choked down a few bites of breakfast before grabbing his trench coat and heading out the front door. 

Eric was waiting for him outside in his beat up, janky gray car. He rolled down his window after seeing Dylan approach him. 

“Hey, birthday boy!” Eric said, jokingly, but his face ended up twisting into an expression of disgust. “You know what? I am so sorry, that sounded so much better in my head. I promise to never say that again.”

Dylan forced a laugh, “Please don’t, that sounded so creepy.”

The brunette rolled his eyes, “Whatever, get in fuckface.” 

Huffing, Dylan walked over to the passenger side and got in. He was still feeling the aftereffects of his earlier nausea and lack of sleep but forced himself to ignore the feeling.

“Where are we going?” Dylan asked dryly, staring out the window.

“You’ll see!” Eric hummed in an almost sing-song tone, causing Dylan to sharply glare at him. _What the hell is up with Reb today? He’s been so...chirpy…_

Dylan huffed, crossing his arms after shoving a Nine Inch Nails CD into the slot, music started blaring loudly through the speakers.

Dylan watched as the world around him flew by, nothing more than a blur of green and gray and sometimes even blue. 

Dylan’s thoughts went back to dwelling on daydreams of suicide... _how would he do it?_

Dylan always wanted to go out with a big bang, something that would make everyone remember him. Something like shooting or bombing his school.

But Dylan wanted to die now, not later. He couldn’t deal with the sinking pain anymore. Planning out a whole fucking massacre would take so long. Not to mention, if it failed and he survived he’d get fucking raped in prison every day. So, he started dreaming about different ways of killing himself. 

_Drinking bleach...hanging....overdosing on pills...alcohol abuse....blowing his brains out...drowning..._

Dylan made a mental list of quick ways of killing himself, wondering which one would suit him. 

_I could just jump out of the car if I really wanted to end it._ That thought made Dylan glance at Eric, which snapped him back to reality. 

What was he doing? It was his 17th fucking birthday, and all he could do was think of killing himself. Even though he had his best friend right next to him. _This is a new kind of low._

Finally, Eric pulled over, on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere. 

“What the hell, Eric?!” Dylan said, sounding extremely irritated. _Why did I even bother getting up this morning?_ He seriously wasn’t in the mood for this bullshit. 

Eric merely gave Dylan a devious grin, “Aww, c’mon dude! Stop being such a bummer!” Eric got out of the car, slamming the door before Dylan had even opened his mouth to answer. 

Begrudgingly, Dylan got out, having to put his arm in front of his eyes to block the sun. 

Looking around, Dylan saw Eric already a few paces ahead of him, walking along a long trail that was surrounded by woods. 

Sighing, Dylan ran to catch up with him.

**Flashback- September 11, 1998, 8:00pm**

The two boys spend a few hours fucking around. They destroyed dead trees, threw rocks at pesky squirrels, and munched on some berries _(“Uh, V, you sure these aren’t poisonous?” “Well...I’ve been eating them my whole life so probably not”)_. 

Dylan’s spirits had seemed to lift, but only slightly. Yet it seemed to be enough to make Eric happy.

Finally, they started the drive to Dylan’s birthday dinner which ended up being Outback Steakhouse, one of Dylan’s favorite restaurants.

  
  


**Flashback- September 11, 1998, 11:10pm**

After the dinner party, Dylan and Eric headed back to Eric’s house, with plans of Dylan staying the night.

“Hey, dude, would you be okay with me taking a shower?” Dylan asked, sounding strangely distant. 

“You really think I care? Of course, you can. Just don’t be a fag and take forty minutes.” Eric teased, earning a hollow laugh from Dylan, which only caused the brunette to frown and furrow his eyebrows, _what the hell is up with V?_

Eric pushed away his concerns, unlocking his front door for them both. He then opened it, and the two boys walked inside. 

Eric headed to his room, taking Dylan’s bag for him while the blonde headed to the bathroom.

Before they went their separate ways, though, Dylan stopped Eric, looking him deep in the eyes, he said the strangest thing.

“Hey, Reb?”

“Yeah, V?”

“Thanks for everything.”

“Uh, you okay dude? It’s just a fucking shower.” Eric replied. 

Dylan laughed, that for some reason sounded genuine, like a joke Eric didn’t seem to understand. He slightly nudged Eric and continued walking to the bathroom.

The older male didn’t even give the conversation a second thought while walking to his room.

  
  


**Flashback- September 11, 1998, 11:30pm**

Eric listened to the shower faucet turn on, water loudly splashed against the tile of the shower. He rested his eyes and listened to the soothing, muffled sounds of the water. He was almost asleep when he heard the sound of something clatter to the floor in the bathroom. He sat up and realized Dylan had been in there for almost twenty minutes now. 

He rolled his eyes and begrudgingly walked to the bathroom door, loudly knocking twice. “Dude, are you almost done?” Silence followed his question, all he could hear was the humming of the shower running.

“Dylan? Hello?” Eric said more forcefully. Silence. Eric felt a cold feeling of panic come over him. 

_This was not right._ He managed to pick the lock and quickly turned the knob. 

Hot steam immediately flowed out of the bathroom before dissipating and allowing Eric to see his best friend lying motionless on the ground. Dylan was fully dressed. It would look like he just passed out from drinking too much if it wasn’t for the blood that was pooling around him. His sleeves had been bunched up at his elbows, exposing each of his wrists. Small, faded scars lined them but the most concerning ones were the fresh, jagged cuts that marred his entire forearm. The cuts stretched from his pale, weak wrists to his inner elbow. They were deep, way past the point of needing stitches. Blood was still oozing out of them. Dylan’s face was expressionless, his eyes were closed. 

Eric dropped to his knees and crawled beside him. “Dylan...” he said softly. He didn’t even bother screaming, deep down knowing it was too late. 

Eric shook him a little. The blonde felt heavy and limp. He was in so much shock. His mind was buzzing with thoughts. The overdrive of emotions led him to feel hollow. He sat dazed for a minute staring at the blood. He didn’t realize that much blood would smell so strong. The coppery, metallic smell overwhelmed the room. The cuts looked so deep and painful. He uselessly ran his fingertips over the wounds, trying to soothe them. His fingertips became coated in blood but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He kept caressing the injuries, willing them to go away. 

He instinctively called out for his mom. The house was silent for a minute before he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. 

“Eric, honey, why are you up so-“ Kathy walked into the room, wearing her pajamas, rubbing tiredly at her eyes. “Oh my god!” She screamed as she took in the sight of her son's best friend. Eric was kneeled beside him, his hands coated in blood, he had a blank expression on his face. He looked towards her as she screamed. 

“Eric! Oh my god!” The look on his mother’s face brought him back to reality and he realized the severity of the situation. 

Dylan, his only fucking friend in the entire world, dead. Gone forever in one minute. He knew Dylan had problems but didn’t think he would do anything that drastic so suddenly. He began sobbing and pressed his hands against his face. The emotional pain suddenly exploded inside him and radiated throughout his entire body. Everything was real. Dylan was really lying in front of him, dead. The pain wouldn’t stop. Every breath he took made the situation more real and inescapable. He reached out for his mom and she quickly wrapped him in her arms, running her hands through his hair in a calming motion. 

He vaguely noticed his dad was now in the room and on the phone, most likely with the police. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to imagine it was all a dream. A horrible fucked in dream that he and Dylan could laugh over in the morning as they laid next to each other in Eric’s bed. Dylan would claim he’s too paranoid. Eric would laugh and playfully shove him. Dylan absolutely glowed on those mornings. Eric could tell when Dylan was feeling true happiness and not just faking it. 

Eric was slapped back to reality when he noticed he was being led upstairs, away from Dylan’s body. His mom guided him into sitting on the living room couch and held him close, continuing to try to comfort him. Eric sat there, tears silently streaming down his face. His throat felt raw from sobbing. Memories of Dylan played over and over in his head in a loop. Dylan laughing. Dylan smiling. He placed his hands tightly on the side of his head willing the images to stop. 

The next few hours were a blur, he mechanically answered the police officers questions, allowed his mother to coddle him, and tried to avoid thinking about him. It wasn’t until that night when he allowed himself to begin feeling emotions again. 

Eric was laid out on the couch, a wool blanket that his mother had covered him with was spread over his body. His mom had wanted to stay with him all night but his dad pressured her to give him some space. Eric couldn’t bear to sleep in his room after what happened. 

Dylan was gone. That’s all he could think about. He put all his effort into blocking it from his mind, unable to cope with the painful reality. He tried to imagine Dylan was still here, just across town in his own room sleeping peacefully. Not lying in a fucking body bag in the coroner's office. Eric’s exhausted mind forced him into a restless, deep sleep. 

**Flashback- September 12, 1998, 8:30am**

Eric woke up in the morning feeling fuzzy. The house was silent meaning all of his family members had already gone their separate ways and started the day. Something felt off. He noticed he was on the couch in the living room and was immediately confused. He wondered if he got too drunk and couldn’t remember falling asleep on the sofa.

Last night was blurry but he remembered feeling horrible. He vaguely remembered seeing Dylan covered in blood and lying motionless on the floor. He couldn’t push his brain to remember if that really happened. He tended to suffer from awful dreams about death and destruction that were sometimes difficult to decipher from reality. The one last night was really bad and felt extremely real. 

Dreams about Dylan dying or getting hurt weren’t new. His overactive mind couldn’t help but wander into thinking about the darker aspects of Dylan’s personality. Namely the depression and suicidal thoughts that plagued Dylan’s mind. Caring about Dylan led Eric to feel vulnerable. Just thinking about Dylan being in pain caused his chest to tighten with anxiety and helplessness. His body still felt physically exhausted from the emotional pain he felt in the dream. Shaking it off, he slowly made it down to the basement to get dressed for the day. 

It was Saturday, but he still wanted to get dressed and maybe end up doing something with Dylan. He couldn’t shake the image of Dylan lying pale and motionless but forced himself to focus on picking out a shirt. He was browsing his options when the shrill ringing of his phone caused him to lose focus. 

He picked up the phone and was relieved to hear Dylan’s voice on the other end greeting him with a good morning. He unconsciously let out a sigh of relief and allowed his mind to stop dwelling on the dream. _It never happened. It was only a dream. Dylan is okay. Dylan is here._

“Hey, Dylan,” Eric answered happily.

“Want to hang out today, dude? I can come over in like fifteen minutes.” Dylan asked, sounding wide awake which was unusual for mornings. 

Dylan was not a morning person, if he could get away with it, he would sleep in till the afternoon. A trait that happened to annoy the shit out of Eric, who hated wasting the day by sleeping. 

“Yes, come on over Vodka. I’m bored as shit.” Eric replied, happy he would get to spend the day with his best friend. 

Dylan arrived fifteen minutes later as promised to the Harris residence. The blonde was wearing one of his nicer band tees and black jeans without any rips. He wasn’t wearing his signature trench coat today, but, as always, wore his “B” baseball cap. 

“Wow, what’s the occasion, Dyl?” Eric said teasingly, referencing Dylan’s nicer than usual appearance. 

“Ha ha,” Dylan said dryly, but had a grin on his face, as he made his way into the house. 

Eric gave a small chuckle at his own joke and followed Dylan to the basement. Dylan flopped on Eric’s bed briefly and then sat up partially, resting his chin on his hand. He looked carefree and happy today. 

“Dude, are you high or something?” Eric questioned, half serious, half jokingly. 

Dylan rolled his eyes but kept the same grin on his face. “No, I’m not high. I’m just in a good mood. Feels great to be seventeen, you know!” 

Eric nodded slowly, he remembered the dream and decided to tell Dylan. “I had a weird ass dream last night.”

“Really? About what?” Dylan replied, interested.

Eric looked away from him hesitantly and thought for a moment. He felt a wave of anxiety and sadness at the horrible dream. He felt somewhat ashamed of himself that he would even have those thoughts.

Dylan noticed his friend's troubled expression and reached his hand out, placing it on Eric’s upper arm, squeezing lightly in a calming motion. 

“Hey, you can tell me anything, okay? What was the dream, Eric?” 

Eric felt foolish at his own hesitation and gave a wave of his hand. “Oh it’s stupid. It just was kind of freaky. Basically, you died or committed suicide because all i remember is..” He trailed off, the image of Dylan lying dead making him shudder. “You were lying on the floor and your wrists were slit. There was just so much blood..” He trailed off, not really wanting to continue.

Dylan had a serious expression before his face twisted into a smile and he began lightly laughing. Eric gave him a mildly offended look. 

“No, don’t worry it’s not you, dude. That’s just so weird! Why would I even do that?” Dylan reverted back to a serious expression. 

“Seriously, there’s no reason to worry, Reb. It was just a dream, nothing more. Anyways… you know me, I wouldn’t just off myself like that. I wouldn’t ever leave you.” Dylan said, looping his arm around Eric.

Eric smiled at him, believing every word.


	7. I Just Want Something I Can Never Have

**November 12, 1998, 10:45am**

Eric wrenched himself out of her grasp, taking a step backwards. 

“Mom, what? Are you joking? Dylan isn’t dead.” Eric said firmly. 

Kathy stood up and reached her hands out towards him. 

“It’s okay, Eric. Come on, sit down and let’s talk about this.” 

Eric stepped further away from her, until his back pressed up against the kitchen wall. 

“Eric, we have tried to be very understanding towards you. We understand how difficult it was to lose your best friend and we were very patient. But honey..” She began to choke up again and sat back down to contain her emotions. “This pretending that he’s still here, well.. it’s just not normal, sweetie.” 

Eric could feel a panic attack coming on. His facade was crumbling and his thoughts were spinning out of control. That fucking “dream” he had about a month ago seemed so real. It had seemed nearly impossible at the time for it to actually be reality. He thought Dylan had gotten better. Dylan’s sadness had gone away. They had each other now. Everything was perfect. They were gonna leave their mark on the world together through NBK and then die, together. The plan couldn’t be fake. He tried his hardest to push the crushing reality down and go back to being with Dylan. The thoughts wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t remember a conversation Dylan had with anyone besides him for over a month now. Dylan didn’t protect him from Jonathan’s abuse. Dylan always used to have his back. Halloween night they had lost their virginity to each other. It  _ had _ to be real. Although he was drunk he clearly remembered confessing their love for each other. His imagination  _ couldn’t _ feel that real. 

“No.. no.” He began crying softly, repeating words of denial. The pain of reality was almost unbearable. He had no one. The only good parts of his life had been a fucking fabrication. His entire body shook with the anxiety of knowing the truth.

Kathy looked on, a worried expression on her face. 

“Mom, he’s not dead!” Eric screamed, reverting back to the way he would throw tantrums when he was a child. 

“Oh, my poor baby…” Kathy replied, sobbing again. 

Eric ran to his room, needing some space and time alone. 

His emotions came crashing down. His thoughts wouldn’t stop racing. Everything had been a lie. He had been alone the last few months. NBK wasn’t even a real plan between him and Dylan. Their romantic relationship wasn’t real. Dylan had died as his friend. Nothing more had ever actually transpired between them. 

_ “Rammestein fucking sucks!”  _ Jonathan’s cruel words echoed through his mind. He had been completely alone that day. After Jonathan beat the shit out of him, the drive home he was alone and no one was there to comfort him or help take care of his injuries. 

Their almost-kiss in the forest. He remembered staring at Dylan, the need to get closer to him was almost uncontrollable. He couldn’t believe he really went to the forest alone that day. His grief drove him back to the final place things were normal between them.

Halloween. He thought it was weird Mike invited him, he must’ve felt sorry that his only fucking friend was dead. Eric’s drunkenness hadn’t actually led to anything. There were no love confessions. No sex. He was still a fucking virgin. Dylan never found out that Eric was in love with him. He died feeling unlovable.

The gloves. The gloves were bought by himself. NBK, as a whole, was completely his own plan. Dylan never came up with any of it. He was fucking dead. Eric’s delusions really drove him to planning a Mickey and Mallory scenario with his dead best friend. 

He sunk down to his knees, twisting his hands in his hair, willing the thoughts to to stop. All his memories were tainted with the knowledge Dylan was never there to share them. The images of Dylan in his head were slowly becoming twisted and diluted. It was all a lie. He wished Dylan was there to hold him. He felt the crushing weight of his emotions and was forced to be burdened with them all alone. The pain wouldn’t stop. He’d rather take a knife to the throat then suffer this agonizing, slow emotional despair. 

He numbly walked to his dresser and shoved some clothes out of the way to access what was buried beneath them. The metal of the handgun felt soothingly cool against his hand. The weight of it made him feel in control and powerful. He just wanted to be with Dylan. He was so fucking tired. Knowing Dylan died alone. Dylan was okay leaving him behind to suffer alone. He couldn’t manage to feel angry at Dylan though. The pain he must have felt to decide to die must have been unimaginable. 

Eric understood that pain. Dylan was gone, permanently. No last kisses or goodbyes. He just slowly faded into nothingness. He was only a memory that would fade and become more diluted with time. Eric couldn’t handle going on without him by his side. The decision was swift but he couldn’t imagine any other path. 

Dylan was something he could never have. 

He had a slight chance to have him in death. It was a risk he would take in a fucking second. 

_ I always have and always will love you, VoDKa,  _ Eric thought to himself, before putting the gun to his temple, and painting his bedroom walls with his brains. 


End file.
